


Let Me In

by thehotinpsychotic



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Frank Iero - Fandom, Gerard Way - Fandom, MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, Pete Wentz - Fandom, The Used, bert mccraken, bob bryar - Fandom, ray toro - Fandom
Genre: Childhood, Horror, M/M, Middle School, School, Vampire AU, Vampires, childhood AU, school au, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotinpsychotic/pseuds/thehotinpsychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard is bullied by a trio of kids by the names of Pete Wentz, Bob Bryar, and Bert McCraken. He spends a lot of time planning his revenge. When a strange boy by the name of Frank moves in next to him, Gerard is desperate to make friends with Frank, who is not exactly interested. As they become closer, will Gerard ever learn the truth about the boy next door?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Point me to the sky above, I can’t get there on my own,” I sing under my breath. I shiver at the chilliness of the night air. “Point me to the graveyard. Dig up her bones.”  
“GERARD!” my mom calls from our apartment. I pretend I don’t hear her and crack open one of my cans of beer.  
“GERARD ARTHUR WAY!” my mom shouts.  
I take a swig from the can and reply, “WHAT?!”  
“DINNER TIME!” she answers.  
I sigh before chugging down the rest of my drink, burying my can in the copious amounts of snow. I trod inside, my legs heavy from the effect of the alcohol. I wash my hands before sitting down at the table, and I scoop a small amount of macaroni onto my plate. I’m not really hungry; I never am when I drink. My mom is starting to become suspicious of my sudden lack of appetite.  
“You didn’t spoil supper on me, did you?” my mom questions.  
“No!” I reply.  
“Gerard,” she sighs.   
“I didn’t!” I repeat.   
Luckily for me, the phone rings. My mom rises heavily and sulks over to the phone. I pick at my macaroni so it looks partially eaten as I listen in on the conversation.  
“Hello? John, I won’t discuss this now, I’m at dinner.”  
Oh shit, she’s talking to my dad. She hasn’t talked to him since the last time I went to his house, which was a month ago. Even then, it was only a few minutes of small talk because she decided she doesn’t love him anymore, and I’m assuming that’s why they got divorced and split up the family that I clung onto ever so dearly.  
“We had an agreement. I think I better call my lawyer, okay?”  
My mom gets all teary eyed, I can tell by the way her voice catches and quivers. “I will not be spoken to like that.”  
I’m kind of glad my parents broke up, because when they fought, my dad would say all of these nasty things to my mom. Which is strange, because my dad is really nice to me and everyone else. Still, I hated hearing my mom being called a bitch almost on a daily basis.  
“Don’t talk to me like that!”  
I get up, not wanting to hear them fight. I scrape off all of my food into the sink and dump out my milk, and when I leave for my room, my mom is again crying because of something my father said to her.  
On the kitchen counter, I see a large chopping knife. I hesitate for a moment before grabbing it, tucking it into my pants and covering it with my shirt as I head up to my room.   
I stand in front of the mirror, my mask on and my shirt off. The mask is a grotesque face, but it always gives me a little bit of confidence when I rehearse what I’ll say to my bullies, Pete, Bert, and Bob.  
“Hey little girl. Are you a little girl? Huh?” I ask, quoting Pete word for word.  
I approach the mirror slowly, raising my knife as I do so.  
“Are you scared?”   
I hear a dog barking, so I stop what I’m doing and go over to my telescope, peeking through the hole. In the apartment across from mine, I see a man and a woman arguing. The woman leaves, so I turn away to another apartment, thinking that all of the interesting stuff is over.  
I see a guy lifting weights. I can’t help but look down disappointedly at my own scrawny body, with its prominent collarbones, sternum and ribcage. Still, nothing exciting about someone lifting weights. I go back to the apartment with the couple fighting, to see the woman and man now both sitting on the couch. The man kisses her, and he threads his fingers through the back of her hair and slips another onto her neck. He slowly undoes her robe, and I watch shamelessly as her breast is revealed. She suddenly locks eyes with me, and I gasp and duck to the floor, hoping she didn’t see me. I stay on the floor for a few moments and, when I finally rise, the apartment’s curtains are being shut.  
When I look out my other window, I see a truck pull up. Out of the truck comes a man and a boy who looks to be about nine, judging by his height. I watch them enter my apartment building. Taking off my mask, I rush to the peephole on my door to see their distorted figures pass by. I slowly open the door the tiniest crack to get a better look. I can’t see the man because he’s unlocking the door, and the boy stands against the back wall. He looks older than what I thought he was; he’s just short. He has dark hair that hangs in his hazel eyes, and perfect pink lips. He’s watching the man attentively. He has on a ratty black sweatshirt and torn jeans that looked like they haven’t been washed in ages. The strange thing about him, is that he isn’t wearing any shoes. It’s 20 degrees outside, snow is covering the ground, and he doesn’t have shoes. His bare feet look almost a sickly bluish color, and they leave behind a small puddle as he steps into his apartment, out of my sight.  
When I walk to school the next morning, I can see his footprints in the snow outside of the building. I look up towards his apartment, wondering if I can get a glimpse of him. It’s easy to remember which one is his; its right next to mine.  
I arrive at school, and when we’re saying the Pledge of Allegiance, I feel something hit my arm. I look down at my sweater, to see that it’s a fucking huge spitball. I fling it off, disgusted, and immediately look at Pete, who grins at me menacingly.   
Already, the day is off to a bad start. P.E.’s next, so I go to the pool and take my usual spot on the bench while the rest of the kids go off and change. Sometimes I wish that I could swim, but I’m too shy to ask the P.E. teacher to show me how. Besides, I’d rather sit away from the rest of the class than make a fool of myself by trying to swim.   
I watch all of the kids splash around, and I see Pete, Bert, and Bob picking on some poor girl named Jamia.   
“Hey, baby,” Pete says, as he unhooks her halter top swim suit.  
Jamia squeals, clutching onto her chest and shouting, “Mr. Culver!”  
“Hey, Pete! That’s 10 laps!” Mr. Culver barks.  
“I didn’t do anything!” Pete protests. Jamia hooks her swim suit back up, her face scarlet.   
“Want me to make it 20?!” the teacher threatens.   
Pete slaps the water angrily, and Jamia scowls and punches him on the arm. I can’t help but smile, and it just so happens that at that very second Pete looks over at me. Oh shit, I’m going to pay for that.  
I hurry into the locker room, knowing that I forgot my Spanish book in the locker where I usually put my bag while the others swim. I fumble with the padlock, but my fingers are clumsy and can’t turn it the right way. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Pete approach, a towel in his hand, smiling evilly.  
“Hey, little girl,” Pete smirks. He snaps me in the face with his towel.   
“Ow! Don’t!” I cry, covering up my face.  
Pete cracks it against my hands, causing me to yell out in pain again.  
“That’s why he won’t go swimming,” Pete declares. “He doesn’t want everyone to see what a fucking girl he is.”   
The others laugh, and I take the opportunity to try to dart past Pete.  
Pete tackles me, and Bob and Bert are on me and holding my arms back the next thing I know. Pete’s hand finds the waistband to my boxer briefs and gives them a pull.  
“Stop!” I squeal, but it’s no use. “It hurts!”   
“No, no, no, no,” I sob, crying from both violation, pain and embarrassment.  
I feel a warm liquid trickle below me and spread across my stomach and legs. Bob shoves away from me, exclaiming,   
“Dude, I think he pissed himself!”   
“Holy shit!” Pete replies, backing away from me.  
“He fucking pissed himself!” Bob repeats.  
“Jesus!” Bert curses. He rises and kicks me in the side. “Fucking freak!”  
I lay on the cold floor and listen to them leave, and I don’t get up until I’m sure they’ve all gone.  
I go to my dealer after school, a chubby ginger kid with glasses named Patrick, who I sort of have a crush on. But he thinks I’m a freak, just like everybody else. But that doesn’t stop him from selling to me. I meet him behind the school, giving my usual request of,  
“A six pack of beers, please.”  
“20 bucks, Gerard,” Patrick reminds. I hand over the money, and Patrick checks around us before transferring the six pack into my hands. As I stuff it into my bag, Patrick nudges me, asking,  
“Hey? Pete, Bert, and Bob, do those kids fuck with you?”   
I blush a little as I nod honestly. “Everyone fucks with me.”  
Patrick grins a little, pulling something out of his coat. He withdraws a small pocket knife, holding it out for my inspection.   
“I’ll give it to you for ten dollars,” Patrick offers.  
“Deal,” I respond quickly, pulling the money from my coat and jamming the knife in its place.   
That night, I stand outside, in front of a tree, knife clutched in my hand in a ready position.  
“Are you scared, little girl?” I recite. “Are you scared? So, scream!” With that, I stab the tree, twisting the knife around and sending chunks of bark everywhere. “Scream!” I pull out the knife before ramming it back into the tree. I stop, panting, and turn around to see the boy from earlier standing there. He’s positioned on the jungle gym, and he is literally standing in a clump of snow. I notice he’s still not wearing shoes, and he’s in the same raggedy old clothes.  
“What are you doing?” the boy asks, even his soft voice echoing in the stoic night air.  
“N-nothing,” I lie. “What are you doing?”  
“Nothing,” the boy replies plainly, in that same feather soft tone.  
I make an attempt at small talk, partially because I want to be the boy’s friend, and partially to get the mental image of me stabbing a tree repeatedly out of his head. “So you guys just moved in? Upstairs?”  
The boy raises his eyebrows for a second before bringing them back down, questioning, “How do you know?”  
“I live next door to you,” I answer. I point at my apartment window, the knife in between my fingers. “Right there.”  
The boy is silent, and his eyes glance at the knife quickly and then back to me. I hastily shove it into my pocket, looking away. I hear the boy hop down from the equipment.  
“Just so you know,” the boy starts. He’s the first one who’s ever looked guilty while telling me, “I can’t be your friend.”  
“Why not?” I ask. This is the first person in a long time to act so friendly towards me.  
“It’s just the way it is,” he answers vaguely. He slowly turns around, heading towards the apartment building.   
“Well who said I wanted to be your friend?” I call. I turn around and begin stabbing the tree again. “Asshole.”


	2. Bloodbath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray does not provide for Frank.

Ray’s P.O.V. (The guy the boy without shoes lives with)  
The night air greets me as I step out of my car and cross the street. I sneak up into the parking lot as the boy abandons his car, heading into the store. I break into it, shimmying a coat hanger inside and undoing the lock. I slip into the backseat and pull of the mask I wear made from a black garbage bag. The mask only has one eye hole, so it’s slightly difficult to see my prey reappear. I duck behind the seat, and right after I hear him climb into the front seat and start the car. I wait until we’re in the middle of nowhere in front of a railroad crossing before I rise. The bar lowers, and I pounce on him, choking him.  
He struggles against me, wildly flailing his arms. I finally snap his neck, and all stirring stops.  
I drag his body into the woods. Once I’m in, I begin to hoist him upside down from a tree. I get him to the top, and I begin my routine. I take out my jug and place it precisely below his neck. I set the funnel on top of the jug and then remove my knife, wiping it on my coat before I slowly drag it against his neck, slicing his jugular.  
The blood rushes out into the jug, and I make sure to hold the funnel in place so none spills. Once the jug is full, I pick it up and step away. I place my foot directly into a hole in the ground, and I fall. The jug rolls away, spreading bright crimson all over the white snow. I hurry after it, and finally pick it up when it’s reached the side of the road. But it’s too late; it’s completely empty.  
A car approaches, so I duck behind a tree and hurry off towards home.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
When I go inside my house, I see the guy that lives with the boy without shoes also step inside his home, his head hung. I rush into my room and, tossing off my coat, I press my ear to the door and listen.  
I hear the boy without shoes yell, “What am I supposed to do with this?!”  
“I didn’t want to get caught,” the man replies.  
There’s a clatter, and the boy shouts,  
“I guess I’ll just have to do this myself!”  
With that, the door slams, and I flinch at the force.  
I step away from the wall, confused as to what they were talking about.  
When I get to school the next day, there’s a giant mass of kids standing outside the principal’s office. I join the crowd, and inside the office I can see actual police officers. My stomach twists nervously, because something tells me that the boy without shoes has something to do with this.  
We have an assembly rather than first period, and the principal tells us that Christopher Livingston, a boy in our school district’s high school, was murdered. They don’t know who did it, but I feel like I do. I glance behind me, to see Pete, Bob and Bert all messing around and laughing. Bob catches my eye and glares at me, so I quickly turn around in my seat and sink down so they won’t notice me.  
I sit on the jungle gym after school, twisting my Rubix cube and growing progressively more and more frustrated. Goddamned devil puzzle.  
“It’s you again, huh?” the boy asks.  
I don’t reply. How the hell did he get there? I glance over and, sure enough, he’s not wearing any shoes.  
“I want to be left alone,” the boy orders.  
“Me too,” I agree.  
“So leave,” the boy demands.  
“You leave,” I retort. “I’ve lived here longer than you.”  
I continue twisting it. The boy leans over and asks,  
“What is that?”  
I can’t believe he doesn’t know what a Rubix Cube is. I hold it up for his examination. “What this? It’s a Rubix Cube.” I stare at him, disbelievingly. “You don’t know a Rubix Cube?”  
I turn away, working on it some more.  
“Is it a puzzle?” the boy asks.  
“Yeah,” I reply. I contemplate giving it to him before holding it out, asking, “Wanna try it? You can give it back tomorrow.” I set it down next to him.  
“How do you do it?” he asks.  
I take it back and sit closer to him, explaining, “You’ve got to get each side one color.” I mess with it a bit until one side is all white and set it beside him. “Like that.”  
He slowly takes it and begins trying to solve it.  
“You smell kind of funny,” I admit. As soon as the words come out, I know I shouldn’t have said them.  
I look at his bare feet, which are covered in snow. “Aren’t you cold?”  
“I don’t really get cold,” he answers.  
I want to ask what he means, but I feel like I’d be bothering him if I did, so I sit quietly.  
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I dismiss. The boy doesn’t reply, just stares intently at the Rubix cube as he twists and turns. I leave without another word.  
Frank’s P.O.V. (The boy without shoes)  
As soon as that boy next door leaves, my stomach contracts with hunger. I cry out in pain, dropping the Rubix cube in shock. I know that I have feed.  
I place myself in an obsolete tunnel, waiting for my prey. I smear dirt on my face to look extra pathetic as I curl up into a sitting position. Soon, a jogger runs in, and he immediately stops when he sees me, questioning,  
“Are you okay? What happened?”  
“I fell,” I reply weakly. I make a horrible coughing and gagging noise for sympathy.  
The man steps closer. “Can’t you get up?”  
“No,” I reply quietly.  
“How old are you, sweet heart?” he kneels in front of me. “Do you live around here?”  
“I live right here,” I answer. “Can you carry me?”  
“Sure,” the man replies. He outstretches his arms, and I grab a hold. He hikes me up so my legs are above his hip bones. That’s when I make my move.  
The man screams loudly as I begin biting his neck. He slams against the tunnel wall, trying to shake me off, so I climb on top of his head and continue biting him. I hit him against both walls before finally getting him on the ground. I feast, moaning loudly as my energy is replenished. I then snap his neck and scurry away.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I’m looking through my telescope when I hear arguing on the other side of the wall, the side that the boy without shoes lives in. I press myself against the wall and hold my breath as I listen.  
It’s a very one sided conversation, with the man the boy lives with screaming and swearing a lot. The door slams, and I then see him leaving the building.  
Ray’s P.O.V.  
I find the mangled body Frank devoured on in the tunnel. I drag it out to a pond and dump it into the water. It floats like all bodies do, so I grab a grab a nearby pole and use it to push his body underwater.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
When I leave for school the next morning, I see the Rubix Cube sitting on the jungle gym, completely finished. I smile as I turn it around in my hands, checking and finding that every single side is one color. As I walk to school, I mix it back up so the boy can demonstrate how he solved it.  
When I get home I the boy sitting on the jungle gym, his hair neatly combed and a grin on his face.  
“How’d you do it?” I ask.  
“I just… twisted,” the boy replies.  
I shake my head and sit next to him, not believing him.  
“Do I smell better now?” the boy asks.  
I can’t help but crack a smile, and he does.  
“What’s your name?” I question.  
“Frank,” he replies. “What’s yours?”  
“I’m Gerard,” I answer. “How old are you?”  
“Twelve,” Frank says, adding, “More or less. What about you?”  
“Twelve years, eight months, and nine days. What do you mean ‘more or less?’” I wonder. “When’s your birthday?”  
“I don’t know,” Frank answers softly.  
“You don’t know?” I ask skeptically. “Don’t you celebrate your birthday? You don’t get birthday presents?”  
“No,” Frank answers.  
“Well you can have this if you want,” I offer, setting the Rubix Cube next to him.  
“That’s okay. It’s yours,” Frank insists.  
I take it back, muttering, “I still don’t get how you did this.”  
“Want me to show you?” Franks suggests.  
“Yeah,” I respond eagerly.  
Frank sits next to me and smiles at me before taking the cube in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Please comment! If you like this story, check out my other fics!
> 
> My Tumblr- www.these-wounds-will-scar-me.tumblr.com


	3. A Lot Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank tells Gerard exactly how to stand up to his bullies.

I’m sitting in class, and we’re watching Romeo and Juliet. The girls are all smiling and swooning, and the boys are merely struggling to stay awake. Except for Pete, who has a car antenna and is tapping other kids on the backs with it. I have my Morse Code book I got from the library, and I’m writing out a copy for Frank to use so we can talk to each other through our walls.  
I’m going to the bathroom later that day, and I suddenly hear a loud banging noise on the stall that makes me jump. I think that over my shoulder I see a figure pass by my stall, but I can’t be sure, so I dismiss it as nothing. I continue peeing, ignoring it, when the banging starts again, but much more forceful and consistent. I gulp as I zip up, seeing the same figure pass by again. Fuck, it’s Pete.  
I nervously head out and face him and his friends, my knees weak.  
“What were you writing back there?” Pete demands.  
“What?” I ask. I truly have no idea what he’s talking about.   
“In Cook’s class. Let’s see it,” Pete orders.  
I finally know that he’s talking about the Morse Code sheets I was writing out. I’m really afraid he’s going to take it or rip it, so when he asks for it, I reply simply with, “No.”  
“No?” Pete repeats. He breathes heavily before extending his car antenna, glaring at me darkly. “Where is it?”  
When I don’t reply, he whips me across the legs with it. It burns something awful, but I manage to repress my scream. When he whips me even harder, yelling,  
“Show me!” I can’t help but let out a small cry in pain.  
I stare at him for a moment before he smacks the antenna against my face, leaving behind a cut.  
“Jesus Christ, dude,” Bob mutters.  
“What?!” Pete barks, turning around.   
“Well, you explain that to his mom,” Bert reasons.  
Pete considers this for a moment before stepping slowly towards me, assuring, “It’s okay.” He clutches onto a handful of my hair and stares at me with hate flickering in his brown eyes. “She’s not going to tell her mom on us, is she?” he asks, referring to me. “She fell down on the playground, that’s all, right?” I’m too scared to reply. “RIGHT?! Say it, little girl. Say it!”  
The bell rings, and Bert and Bob both stand and sling their backpacks over their shoulders, ready to leave.  
“Let’s go, man,” Bob suggests softly. You know Pete’s a psychopath when even his friends are afraid of how aggressively he bullies me.  
Pete finally leaves, and as he goes, I choke out,  
“I fell down on the playground.”  
Sure enough, my mom asks me about the cut on my face, and I give the response assigned by Pete.  
“You’ve got to be more careful, honey,” my mom instructs lightly as she scoops dinner onto my plate. “I don’t like to see my baby get hurt.”  
She kisses me on the cheek before she says grace.   
I head out quickly onto the jungle gym, and Frank is already sitting there. The difference is, again, his hair is combed, and his clothing looks semi-new. He’s even wearing shoes, for Christ’s sakes.   
I set down my bag and pull out the Morse Code sheets, instructing,  
“Look at this, Frankie. I made one for you and one for me.” I hand him one of the sheets.   
Frank instead picks the Romeo and Juliet paperback out of my bag, asking dreamily,  
“Are you reading this?”  
“Yeah, it’s for school. It’s boring,” I reply quickly. “Look at this, it’s really cool.” I point at his Morse Code sheet. “We can talk to each other through the wall.”  
Frank looks up slowly. “Can you hear me through the wall?”  
I debate whether to tell him the truth. I don’t want to seem like a busybody, but at the same time I feel like I should be honest with him. My mom rants and raves about what Jesus would do, and I think that Jesus would tell Frank the truth.  
“Only sometimes,” I answer honestly. I can only hear them when they yell, really.  
“Did you hear anything the other night?” Frank asks.  
“Why was your dad so mad?” I question. “Where’s your mom? Are your parents divorced?”  
“My mom’s dead,” Frank replies bluntly.   
“My mom and dad are divorced,” I confide.  
Frank lightly touches at my cheek, where the Band-Aid is placed over my cut. “What happened there?”  
“Some kids from school,” I murmur. Trying to change the subject, I ask, “Where do you go to school? I never see you-”  
“Gerard, listen,” Frank interrupts.  
“What?”   
“You have to hit back,” Frank instructs. “You have to hit back, hard.”  
“I can’t. There’s three of them,” I explain.  
“Then you have to hit back even harder,” Frank responds. “Hit them harder then you dare, and then they’ll stop.”  
“What if they hit me back?” I worry.  
“You have a knife,” Frank reminds.  
“Yeah, but what if that doesn’t stop them?” I persist.  
Frank is quiet for a moment, and he looks down at the ground. “Then I’ll help you.”  
“But- you’re small,” I point out.  
Frank grabs my hand, telling, “I’m a lot stronger than you think I am.”  
I lean up against my wall, ready to practice my Morse Code with Frank. I start the conversation, and sure enough he answers back.  
The next day at school, I hang somewhat anxiously in the doorway of Mr. Culver, the P.E. teacher’s, office.   
“M-Mr. Culver?” I stammer.  
“Yes, Gerard?” He asks, not looking up from his newspaper.  
“I was wondering about the weight training program after school. Can people still sign up?”  
“You want to be strong?” Mr. Culver asks disbelievingly. I guess he can’t picture a person like me putting effort into anything. I shrug in response, only supporting his idea.   
“Come at 4:00,” Mr. Culver instructs. “We’ll make you strong.”  
“Cool,” I mumble.  
I sneak into my mother’s purse while she’s in the shower, stealthily slipping a 20 dollar bill out of her coin purse. When I put it back into the purse, I see one of my mom’s many pictures of Jesus staring at me. I guiltily look away and leave, going with Frank to meet Patrick.  
“Frank, this is my dealer, Patrick,” I introduce.   
Patrick holds out his hand. “Mucho gusto.” Oh yeah, Patrick speaks Spanish. He’s a very interesting seventh grader that way. Patrick nudges me and whispers, “Gerard, Frank’s pretty cute.”   
“Back off,” I reply. I take out the twenty dollar bill, which buys me a six pack. I dip into my own money, spending ten dollars on a pack of cigarettes. I stuff the cigarettes into my coat pocket and crack open a beer for myself, offering one to Frank.  
“You wanna try? This is my favorite kind, it’s really good,” I inform.   
“No thanks,” Frank answers quietly.  
I cock my head at him. “Well, then what do you like? You can have whatever you want.”  
“That’s okay,” Frank responds.  
I shrug as I take a sip of my beer, the foamy texture heavy in my mouth.   
“Well, maybe I can try one,” Frank suggests.  
I smile as I hand over a can to him. He opens it, jumping at the noise, and then slowly takes it to his lips, taking a small gulp.  
“I like it,” he says, and he takes another swallow.  
Frank then rushes away, vomiting into the street. I run up and pat his back, and he gags and looks up at me, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes.  
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.   
I hug him without even thinking about it, and I hold the embrace.  
“Gerard? D-do you like me?” Frank stutters.  
“Yeah. A lot,” I answer, my voice muffled into Frank’s coat.  
“Would still you like me… even if I wasn’t a boy?” Frank asks.   
“What do you mean?” I question. Frank doesn’t reply, so I just shrug and say, “I don’t know. I guess so.” I break apart the hug, asking, “Why?”  
Frank shakes his head. “No reason.”  
“So why’d you move here?” I ask. I walk with Frank, our fingers entwined in each other.   
“We move around a lot,” Frank replies.  
“Okay, but why’d you move here?” I repeat, emphasizing the ‘here’. “This place sucks. I hate it here. Someday I’ll get out, and I’ll never come back.”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t like the people,” I answer. “They’re stupid.”  
“Gerard!” my mom calls.  
“God!” I complain. “Give me a minute,” I tell Frank.  
I head out to the middle of outside the apartment building, the courtyard.  
“What?” I shout.  
“You promised you wouldn’t leave the courtyard!” my mom reminds.  
“I’ve been here the whole time!” I lie.   
“Come inside,” my mom orders. I turn around to say good bye to Frank, but to my disappointment, he’s no longer standing there. I sigh as I head up to my apartment. When I finally reach the right floor, Frank is standing beside my front door, smiling.  
“Good night,” Frank wishes.   
“Good night,” I reply, and I grin back as we both step inside of our homes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Please comment!!! New chapter should be up in a couple of days or so :)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr- www.these-wounds-will-scar-me.tumblr.com


	4. Harder Than You Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray gets himself into a situation that changes everything and leaves Frank alone, and on the radar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikey is unrelated to Gerard in this fic.

Frank’s P.O.V.   
I walk into the kitchen, where Ray is standing rinsing out one of his jugs that he fills. I stare at him for a moment before placing a hand on his cheek, stroking it affectionately. Ray sighs deeply and says,  
“Frankie? I don’t want you to see that boy anymore.”  
I’m quiet. There’s no way I can do that. I force a light smile at him before leaving the room.  
Ray’s P.O.V.  
I sneak into the gym parking lot, and slip into the backseat of a random car. I pull on my mask, which Frank oh so carefully made with a garbage bag. I lay on the back of the floor behind the seats, and I wait for my prey to appear.  
The boy finally enters, and the car begins to roll out into the street, when I hear a boy call out. The car stops, and another boy climbs into the passenger seat, tossing his backpack onto me.   
“Thanks for picking me up, man. I’m going to my girlfriend’s.” the other boy instructs.  
“No problem,” the boy driving replies. The car starts up again and leaves, starting down the road. The street lights send a ray of light into my face at every pass.   
The other boy reaches his hand and starts feeling around near me. I slide away, holding my breath and praying to God that he doesn’t know a stranger is about two centimeters away from his grasping hand.   
“What are you doing?” the boy driving asks.   
“Trying to move the seat,” the other boy answers.   
“It’s in the front,” the boy instructs. The other boy moves his hand away and pushes his seat back further into my side.   
The car stops, and the boy driving gets out. I can tell by the dinging of a gas meter that we’re at a gas station. The boy in the passenger seat restarts the key to turn on the radio, sifting through stations of static before finally settling on “Burning For You” by Blue Oyster Cult. He cranks the song as he puts a cigarette between his lips. He searches for his lighter in his parka before turning around to grab his book bag. He sees my shoes, and follows them up to my face. He can only see my eyes through the holes of my mask. We stare at each other in mutual fear for a moment before I spring at him, wrapping one of my arms around his throat. I hold him against the seat, grabbing my wrist with my free hand to tighten the pressure on his neck. He finally chokes out, and I climb into the front seat and start the car, going in reverse. The boy who was driving realizes,  
“Shit, that’s my car!”   
He and some other boys he was standing with chase after me, and the boy throws a slushie at the car, splattering across the windshield and obscuring my vision.   
The car flips and falls off of the side of the road, barrel rolling down the side and finally landing upside down. I groan as I look out of the window, seeing the boys approaching the car. I see next to me the bottle of acid I always keep, and right now is a time where I need it.   
I take the bottle with a shaking hand and twist off the cap. I hold my breath as I pour it onto my face. God, does it burn. I scream and writhe around, and my skin just bubbles as steam pours off of it. The three boys stand outside, staring at me in complete shock.  
Frank’s P.O.V.  
I’m lying on my bed when I hear it on the radio.  
“A man that has stolen a car and killed the only passenger has been arrested. He has self-inflicted acid burns on his face, which currently makes it impossible for the police to identify him. He remains in critical condition at the hospital.”  
I hurry out of my room, and as I leave, a song on the radio starts, playing through the house.  
“Point me to the sky above. I can’t get there on my own. Point me to the graveyard. Dig up her bones.”  
I reach the hospital, finding a receptionist and asking,  
“Could I see my father? The police brought him in.”  
The receptionist answers, “Sorry sweetie, that room is restricted. Do you want me to ask the investigator if it’s-”  
“No! That’s okay,” I insist. I head out of the building, my bare feet slapping against the tile.   
I hear the receptionist say, “Oh that poor little boy.”  
I rush up the side of the building and watch the receptionist dart out into the cold, calling,  
“Little boy?” She looks around and, when she doesn’t find me, gives up and goes back inside. I scale the side of the hospital, quickly locating the room that Ray is in. I tap on the window lightly with my knuckles.  
I see Ray rise from his hospital bed and walk slowly over to the window, which he opens.  
“Can I come in?” I ask.   
Ray sadly shakes his head. Oh, I understand. His face is so mutilated that he can’t actually speak. He can’t say that I can come in.   
I look at him, and tears well up in my eyes at I look at his burnt face. He did this all for me. I begin crying, and Ray pulls me into a hug. He breaks it apart, and presses his neck against my mouth. I stare at him, eyes watery, and he does it again, urging me to feed. I take the invitation and slowly sink my teeth into his throat, biting into it and tearing off scraps of skin. I drink the blood, suckling loudly. Once he’s gone, he falls out of the window and onto the ground eight stories below. His monitor has been beeping for a while now, so I duck behind out of the window’s view as I hear a nurse come in to check on him. The nurse pokes her head out the window and screams, her shriek piercing keenly through the frigid night’s air. A man with light brown hair and horn rimmed glasses comes into the room, looks down at Ray’s corpse, and shakes his head disappointedly. I scurry away, flying over to Gerard’s house.   
I sit on Gerard’s windowsill and then rap my fingers softly on the glass. Gerard, his back to me, in his bed sleeping, moans,  
“What?”  
“Can I come in?” I ask.  
Gerard nods sleepily.   
“You have to say it,” I explain.  
“You can come in,” Gerard yawns.   
I step into the window and slip out of my hoodie, stepping out of my jeans and boxers as I do so. I climb into Gerard’s bed and snuggle up next to him.   
“How did you get up here?” Gerard wonders.  
“I flew,” I answer.  
“Yeah, right,” Gerard scoffs. He’s quiet for a moment. “H-hey! You’re not wearing anything! And you’re ice cold.”  
“Is that gross?”  
“No,” Gerard replies lightly. “Do you want to go steady with me?”  
“What do you mean?” I ask.  
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Gerard paraphrases.   
“Gerard, I’m not a boy,” I remind.  
“You’re not a boy?!” Gerard responds.  
“No.”  
“Then what are you?” Gerard questions.  
I think for a moment and turn away from him, admitting, “I’m nothing.”  
“You know, it’s okay that you don’t want to date me. You don’t have to make stuff up,” Gerard mumbles.   
I look back at Gerard, pleading, “Can’t we just keep things the way they are?”  
“Sure,” Gerard mutters.   
I decide to find out exactly what going steady means, since Gerard seems so disappointed. “Do you have to do anything special when you go steady?”  
“No.”  
“So things stay the same?”  
“Yeah,” Gerard answers.   
“Okay. We can go steady,” I decide.  
“Really?” Gerard asks eagerly.  
“Yeah,” I reply. I take Gerard’s hand and place it on my face, letting it rest there against my cheek.   
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
The next morning, Frank is gone. I get up and sitting on my nightstand is a cigarette box, broken down and fully expanded. On it, in a very beautiful handwriting, it quotes,  
“ ‘I must go and live or stay and die’. Frank + Gerard  
I smile and, on the way to the lake for ice skating during the school day, read my copy of Romeo and Juliet just for Frank. Maybe I can quote something back and leave the note in his room.   
“Careful of the holes in the ice. Do not go near them,” Mr. Culver instructs as we step out towards the lake.  
Pete approaches me and swings an arm around me, saying, “I hope you’ve learnt how to swim, little girl. You’re going in.”  
My stomach clutches up in fear as I stop walking and watch Pete pass me and catch up to Bert and Bob.  
I ice skate about as well as I can swim, so I stand on the outside of the lake. I find a large pole buried under the snow, and I pull it out just in case I need it.   
Pete and his boys walk towards me, and I hold the pole firmly.  
“What do you think you’re going to do with that?” Pete demands.  
“I’m going to hit you with it,” I respond honestly. I add, “If you try anything.”  
“Really?!” Pete replies. “Wow!” He and his friends laugh. “Do you know what I think? I don’t think you’ll do a fucking thing. I think you’re just going to stand there like a little girl, and I’ll take that stick and ram it straight up your ass. And then, you’re going swimming.”  
“Dude, Mr. Culver’s checking us out,” Bob warns.  
“Just drop it,” Bert admonishes. “We’ll beat this girl’s little ass later.”  
Pete holds his glare at me. “Give me the stick.”  
I’m too scared to reply.  
“Give me the stick,” Pete repeats. When I don’t do anything he reaches out an arm. I swing the pole, crying out with effort as I strike him on the side of the head.  
Pete crumples to the ground, screaming loudly.  
“Jesus Christ, are you fucking crazy?!” Bob yells.  
“Hey!” Mr. Culver shouts. At that exact moment, a chorus of screams from the rest of the children cut through the air. Mr. Culver follows their cries, to find a body frozen in pond.   
Approx. 1 hr. Time Lapse  
“Do you know what could have happened when you hit Pete?” the principal asks. “Gerard, you seem like a smart kid. I don’t want to see you go down the wrong path.”  
“He’s a good boy,” my mom swears.   
I’m really lucky I didn’t get suspended.   
That night, I’m in my room when I hear a buzzing at the door. I answer it, to see a gangly man with glasses and fawn hair standing there. He pushes his glasses even further up onto his nose and questions,  
“Hello. Are your parents home?”  
“Mom?” I call. She comes to the door and shakes the man’s hand.   
“Michael Way, nice to see you,” my mom greets. She runs her hands nervously down her evening gown and asks, “What is this about?”  
“There was an incident involving one of your neighbors, so we’re asking around to see if anyone knows anything,” Michael replies.   
“What kind of incident?” I blurt out.  
Michael sort of glares at me, and my mom suggests,  
“Gerard, honey? Why don’t you go to your room?”   
I hesitantly leave, knowing that something too horrible for my impressionable young ears to pick up.  
I look into the room where the guy was lifting weights how long ago, to see a hoard of police men in there taking a bunch of pictures. My stomach drops, and I wonder if he’s okay.  
Frank’s P.O.V.  
I hear Gerard knock on the wall. I grin and am about to reply when my doorbell buzzes. The person then knocks on the door, buzzes again, and then continues knocking. I slowly get up, processing to the front door. I stand up on my tippy toes to look out the peep hole, to see the man from the hospital that had stuck his head out the window and seen Ray’s body. Pinned to the man’s breast, I see a police badge. I hold my breath and watch him finally leave, exhaling with relief as he does so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please comment, and if you like this story, try my other fics!
> 
> My Tumblr- www.these-wounds-will-scar-me.tumblr.com  
> My Youtube- thehotinpsychotic


	5. Such A Thing As Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard finds out what Frank is, the hard way.

Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I’m leaving the school building when I see Bob, Pete and Bert walking through the front yard. I hide behind a wall, poking my head around the corner to see what they are doing.  
“Could you have taken any longer?” Bob asks Bert, who is approaching.  
“Sorry, I got held back in vocal,” Bert explains.  
“Why are you taking that class anyways? It’s so gay,” Pete demands.  
Pete’s older brother, Brendon, runs up and pulls Pete into a headlock, hitting him in his damaged ear.   
“Hey!” Pete cries, squirming helplessly against his older sibling. I feel bad for laughing, but it feels good to see my bully be the victim for once.  
“How’s the cripple?” Brendon teases. He finally releases Pete by flinging him away.  
“Don’t touch it! It hurts,” Pete barks.  
“Man, that kid really wailed on your ass. Are you going home?” Brendon questions.  
Pete grumbles, “No, I’m going to Bob’s.”  
“Can I borrow your keys? I forgot mine,” Brendon asks. When Pete doesn’t reply, he adds, “Please.” Pete still doesn’t answer him. “Give me the fucking keys.”  
Brendon holds out his hand, and Pete reluctantly withdraws the keys from his pocket and drops them into his brother’s outstretched hand.   
“Thanks. See you at home, little girl,” Brendon smirks, ruffling Pete’s dark hair. He leaves, swinging the keys in his hand.  
“Shut up,” Pete scowls.  
“I didn’t say anything!” Bob protests.  
“Shut up!” Pete repeats.  
I sit next to Frank on the jungle gym that night.   
“Frank?”  
“What?”   
“They were gonna push me in a hole in the ice, so I got a huge stick and hit Pete in the head really hard. He had to go to the hospital, Frank. I almost got suspended.” Frank smiles as I eagerly continue my ramble. “I did what you told me to. I stood up to them.”  
“Gerard,” Frank breathes.  
“Yeah?” I reply.  
Frank leans in and plants a kiss onto my lips, pulling away after a few seconds. I look down at the ground, blushing. I lick my lips, tasting Frank’s flavor. I gaze up at him, and suddenly an idea pops into my head.   
“Hey, wanna go somewhere?” ‘  
“Where?” Frank responds.  
I take Frank down to the basement of the complex, to a room that has in graffiti on the door “Enter under penalty of painful death.” I open the door and step inside, soaking in all of the graffiti art that covers each wall of the small room. Frank steps in behind me and stares around wide eyed at everything.  
“Pretty cool, huh?” I ask, shrugging off my backpack.  
“Yeah,” Frank agrees.   
“There was this kid, Matt. And he used to come down here and smoke and do drugs with his high school friends, and when they weren’t there, he’d play ping pong with me!” I inform. “He was a really cool guy. He had to move away, though.”  
I take off my hat, running my hands through my hair to make sure that it’s in order. “I kind of like it here.”  
“It’s cool,” Frank compliments, wandering around the room.   
“And I don’t think any of the adults know about it,” I add. “Just us.”  
Frank starts the record player in the room, and a sweet melody fills the air. He waltzes over, asking sultrily,   
“So what was it that you wanted to do down here?”  
I grin at how sexual it sounds. “I think I have an idea. Close your eyes.”  
Frank screws his eyes shut, and I remind,  
“Keep them closed,” when he halfway opens one for a split second.   
I dig my knife out of my pocket and press it against my thumb, cutting it deep so that blood comes out. “Let’s make a pact.”  
Frank opens his eyes, and they widen at the blood dripping out of my thumb.  
“It only hurts for a second,” I comfort.  
“Here,” I offer, outstretching my hand.  
Frank drops to his knees, and he slowly laps up the blood that has fallen to the floor with his tongue.  
“Frank?” I ask, my voice shaking.  
Frank looks up, and God does he looks awful. His eyes are transparent, and his skin is a pale yellow color and covered in welts and horrible looking scratches. He cocks his head at me, and growls two words in a low, unfamiliar voice.  
“Go away.”  
He pushes past me, sprinting out of the room.   
Frank’s P.O.V.  
I race down the hall, bursting outside and easily climbing up a tree. I see a person walking towards me. I wait for them to get closer, and when I know that I will land correctly, I drop from the tree, pouncing on the woman.  
She screams as I devour her, and the man she was walking with catches up and shoos me away. I run, and he chases me until I hop the fence. I sit on the other side, gathering up snow in my hands to wash the blood off of my face. I hear the man yell,  
“Someone call 911!”   
I wait until I hear the sirens depart to go back to my apartment.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I see an ambulance pull out from the courtyard, and I know that Frank had something to do with it. I know he attacked something. I know he’s something different, something evil. I know that my boyfriend is a vampire.  
I walk into my mom’s room, asking tentatively,  
“Mom?” I leave once I realize she’s asleep, and I head to the phone to call my dad.  
“Gerard?” my dad asks.  
“Dad? Can I talk to you?” I question.  
“Yeah, sure. What is it, Gee?” my dad urges.  
It’s hard to say the next words. It’s hard to ask my dad, “Do you think there’s such a thing as evil?”  
“Evil? What are you talking about?”  
“Can people be evil?” I paraphrase.  
“What? What are you getting at? Is this coming from your mother? All her religious crap?” my dad demands.  
I shake my head, not realizing that he can’t see me do it. “No.”  
“Gerard, listen. Let me talk to your mom,” my dad instructs.  
“She’s not here,” I respond truthfully.  
“Gerard, please tell her to call, okay?”  
“Dad?” I ask.  
“Gerard, I want you to get this crap out of your head, alright?”   
A tear falls out of my eye, and I let it make its way down my face.   
“Your mother’s… look, she has problems. So I don’t want to hear anymore of this, alright?” my dad orders. I can’t answer, so he persists, “Alright?”  
“Yeah,” I choke out. I hope he can’t tell that I’m now crying because of the things he’s said.  
“You have a good night, pal,” my dad wishes. “I love you. I don’t want you to forget that.”  
I nod, sobbing, until he hangs up the phone. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my head in them, weeping quietly.   
I decide to go over to the source of the problem, so I knock on the door of Frank’s apartment. He answers, and I’m really glad that his father doesn’t.   
“Can I come in?” I ask.  
Frank nods, his face sullen.  
“You have to say it,” I remind.   
“You can come in,” Frank says softly.   
He steps out of my way so I can walk past, and closes the door behind me, double checking that it’s locked so many times that I wonder if he has severe OCD.  
When I walk in the apartment, I see that it is mostly bare other than a few half emptied suitcases.  
I face Frank, asking, “Are you a vampire?”  
Frank is quiet for a while until I look up at him, urging him to speak. He flails his arms weakly, explaining, “I need blood. To live.”  
“How old are you? Really?” I demand.  
“Twelve,” Frank insists. “But,” he adds, “I’ve been twelve for a very long time.”  
“Where’s your dad?” I ask.  
“He wasn’t my dad,” Frank replies.  
There’s an uncomfortable silence, and I move over to a table that is literally filled with strange blocks, crosswords and such.  
“What’s all this stuff?” I ask, picking up a wooden cube with slots and handles.”  
“I like puzzles,” Frank answers.  
I find a strip of pictures from a photo booth. It’s Frank smiling with some girl. The girl has blond hair and dark eyes, and by the looks of it, Frank is sitting on her lap. Jealousy flares up in my stomach, and all of the sudden I want nothing more than to leave.  
I glare at Frank, back to the photograph, before setting it down. I stride away, explaining, “I wanna go now.”   
Frank steps in front of me, his arms outstretched to the sides.   
“I wanna go!” I repeat. “Are you going to let me?” I challenge. “What are you going to do to me?”  
Frank looks very upset; I see tears well up in his eyes as he gets out of my way. I step past him, and he reminds sadly,  
“I told you we couldn’t be friends.”  
Mikey’s P.O.V.  
I’m walking through the hospital, where a patient that was attacked by a person is staying. I’m awaiting a talk with her husband. I reach the room, and I knock lightly on the door frame.   
I hold up my badge, giving the, “Sorry to bother you. Can we talk?”  
The husband nods and drops his wife’s hand, setting it next to her. He then steps out into the hall with me.  
“It’s been quite a night,” the man groans.  
“I need to ask about the description you gave of the little boy? You’re saying he had shaggy, black hair, and looked about nine to twelve. He wasn’t wearing any shoes,” I recite.  
“That’s right,” the man agrees.  
I nod, taking out the description picture of Ray Toro from my pocket and handing it to the husband. “Have you seen this man? He’s a suspect in the murder investigation.”  
“This looks like a guy in our building,” he replies.  
“Did he have a son? Like the one you described?” I ask.  
“I don’t know, I’ve only seen him a few times,” he explains. “Why, do you think this has something to do with your murder case?”  
“Well, we’re starting to look at this as some sort of satanic cult,” I respond. “We found another body the other day, same memo; completely drained of blood.”  
I see a nurse walk into the room, and she opens the curtains. The woman in the bed hisses, and her skin burns red and she begins to steam. The nurse rushes over, and by the time she reaches the woman, the patient is on fire. The nurse catches on fire as well, and I have to hold the husband back to stop him from running into the room and trying to save his wife.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I sit down with my supper, listening to the reporter say something about a fire in the hospital that lit up in a patient’s room, killing the woman patient and the nurse. I hear a knock at the door, and I abandon my food on the coffee table and get up and answer it.  
Frank is standing there, his hair neatly combed. He’s wearing a baggy, tie dyed Misfits t shirt that hangs halfway down his tiny thighs. “Hey.”  
I open the door wider, allowing Frank to come in silently.   
“You have to invite me in,” Frank reminds. “It’s your home.”  
“What if I don’t?” I wonder. “Is something in your way?”  
Frank hesitates, and then steps into the center of the room. He stands there a few moments, and then bows his head. Blood starts to pour from seemingly nowhere, dripping down the face. I stare at him in shock, and he slowly looks up at me.  
“No, no! Stop! You can come in!” I shout. Frank stops bleeding, and I rush over to hug him. “What was that?”  
“I don’t know,” Frank answers. “I guess this is what happens if you don’t invite me in.”  
“What if I didn’t say anything?” I worry. “Would you have never stopped bleeding? Would you have died?”  
“I knew you wouldn’t let me,” Frank answers solemnly.  
Frank’s P.O.V.  
I stand in the shower, watching the red seep onto the floor and travel down the drain in a crimson spiral. I wrap a towel around myself, to realize that it hardly covers my dick. I hold onto it tightly, not wanting it to fall and accidently flash Gerard.   
When I walk out into the hall, music is playing. I recognize it as White Room by Cream. Gerard smiles at me, and I can’t help but grin back.   
“I have some old clothes I’ve outgrown in a box in the corner of my room. I think they might fit you,” Gerard shouts over the song.  
I enter his room, and I swear that as I walk in, Gerard tries to look up the back of my towel.  
I dress myself in some striped boxer briefs, a blue button up, a grey sweater vest and slacks. Hey, it’s the only thing that would fit me. I leave the room with a frown on my face, complaining,  
“Your mom dressed you like an asshat.”  
Gerard laughs and twirls me in time with the music, retorting,  
“I think you look sharp.”  
“Hello?” a woman calls. Shit, it’s Gerard’s mom! “Gerard?”  
Gerard looks at me in panic for a second before grabbing my hand, running into his room with me close behind. “I’m in here!” he calls.   
I get to the window and open it, slipping outside and climbing from the ledge into my own apartment. I poke my head out of my window, and Gerard is looking down. He finally looks over at me, and we giggle at each other. Frank lets out one last laugh before shutting his window, blowing me a kiss goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment please, and if you like this story, check out my other fics!!
> 
> My Tumblr- www.these-wounds-will-scar-me.tumblr.com


	6. Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Officer Way gets the warrant to search the Iero apartment. Too bad Frank and Gerard don't know this and are caught off guard.

Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I sneak out of the house at 10:00 at night, going over to Frank’s. We hang out, mostly talking and listening to music while Frank does his puzzles. I fall asleep on the floor, Frank beside me, petting my hair.  
Mikey’s P.O.V.  
I arrive at the apartment complex, ready to get the little boy. I got the warrant to search his house, and to bring him back to the station if I can. He better be there; because I need to get to the bottom of this whole Satanism thing before another person is killed.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I wake up with a note stuck underneath one of Frank’s puzzles beside me. I sit up, pulling the note out from under the cube. The note reads, in Frank’s fancy Victorian-style handwriting,  
“Hi Gerard. Good morning. I am in the bathroom. Please do not come in. Want to hang out with me again tonight? I really like you. Love Frank”  
As soon as I’m done reading, the door buzzes, startling me and making me jump. I slowly walk over, following the knocking. I look out the peephole, to see officer Way. I lean back, and the floorboards creak under my weight. Shit, he knows I’m here.  
“Hello?!” officer Way barks. “Police department, open the door. Open the door!” He bangs on the door once again. It’s quiet for a while, and then the lock to the door is blown off. Holy shit! I have about nine heart attacks from the loud noise. I hurry and hide before he kicks open the door, shouting “Police officer!”  
He slowly makes his way through the house, failing to see me hiding just a few feet away beneath a table. He walks away, and I see him find the note Frank left for me. Shit, oh shit oh shit! He knows Frank’s in the bathroom! He heads towards the bathroom door, his gun raised. He opens the door, to see the bathroom empty.   
He moves around the small room, to find the bathtub filled with rugs. He uncovers a few of them, to find Frank curled up on top of some more. Frank’s sleeping, his face innocent and peaceful.   
Officer Way notices the cardboard taped over the window, and begins pulling up a corner of it. Frank’s eyes shoot open as some of the pale skin on his leg cracks open from the sunlight beaming in.  
“No, no! Stop!” I cry, running into the bathroom.  
Officer Way jumps, spinning around to face me. “Jesus son-”  
Frank springs onto Officer Way’s back, screeching loudly as he attacks him. The officer screams in horror, as he is thrown to the ground and then dragged away from me. I can hear the crunching of Frank eating him, sucking his blood. I watch his crimson blood splatter against the door. I approach, and Officer way outstretches a bloody hand to me for help.  
I reach out as well, intending to help, but all I do is begin to cry and slam the bathroom door shut. I press my hands over my ears as I walk away, wanting to block everything out. I love Frank, but I’m not sure that I can take this.  
Frank appears behind me, and he wraps his arms around me, which are now soaked in blood. He rests his chin on my shoulder, and I can feel the wetness of the blood off of his face against my cheek.  
“I have to go away,” Frank mumbles.   
I can’t answer, because I’m so afraid of losing him. He stretches his neck, planting a kiss on my lips. It leaves them bloody, but I could care less. I head back home, dragging my feet forlornly against the hallways, and touching Frank’s apartment door with melancholy filling up my chest.   
I watch Frank get into a cab that night, and I lose it. I bawl, I just can’t take it. I can’t believe that he’s leaving. I can’t lose him. I run out into the cold with no shoes, waving my arms, calling,  
“Frank! Frank wait!”  
But the taxi doesn’t stop. Frank looks back at me and smiles kind of sadly, and tears fall down his face as he waves goodbye at me. I stop running, and wave back, crumpling to my knees as the departing car kicks up snow into the frosty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT the last chapter. There is one more!! Thanks so much for reading!! New chapter should be up today or tomorrow! Please comment!!!


	7. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is put in a life threatening situation. Who can help him?

Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I walk to my locker at P.E. and am about to change when Mr. Culver walks in, saying,  
“Speak of the devil. Are we swimming today?”  
I nod, excitedly. I’ve always wanted to learn how to swim. I guess I can thank Frankie for the sudden confidence to ask for help to learn how.  
Mr. Culver leaves and I change into my swim trunks. As I leave, Bob sees me.   
“Hey man,” Bob greets casually.  
“Hi,” I reply, extremely unsettled.  
I turn back to talk some more to him, but by the time I do that, Bob is gone.  
Pete’s P.O.V.  
Bob arrives, and I snarl,  
“God! It’s about time! Do you have the matches?”   
Bob nods and hands them to me. Bert pours out the lighter fluid into the trashcan, and I struggle to light a match.  
“Hurry up!” Brendon scowls, a cigarette between his lips.   
“I’m doing it!” I insist. I finally light it, and toss it in. The trash, which is mostly composed of cardboard and- well- lighter fluid- goes up into the flames. The burning inferno singes me slightly, and I follow Bob into the pool, where I know Gerard is.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
“Kick and breathe like we did last time,” Mr. Culver instructs.  
I do as I’m told, and whenever I surface for air, I can hear Mr. Culver’s words of encouragement. It feels so good to finally be learning.   
Bob bursts into the room, shouting, “Mr. Culver, there’s a fire!”  
“What?!” Mr. Culver responds.  
“Out back,” Bob answers. He really does look nervous.  
“Gerard, I’ll be right back,” Mr. Culver calls as he leaves the room. Bob hangs in the doorway, staring at me for a while, before he follows Mr. Culver out. I’m worried, but I tell myself it’s just a coincidence and continue working on my freestyle.  
Pete’s P.O.V.  
Mr. Culver sprints outside, and we quickly do our job and lock him out. We sprint up to the pool. When we arrive, my brother yells,  
“Everybody get out of the pool!”  
When no one does anything, he roars, “NOW!”  
“Out! I said everybody get out!”  
I spot Gerard trying to leaving, and I hurry after him, my boys in toe. When we find him at his locker, he has a knife in his hand. And God, he actually looks more confident than scared.   
“What are you going to do with that?” Brendon sneers.  
Gerard tries to dart out, but we grab him. He kicks and struggles and puts up such a Hell of a fight that I’m moderately impressed. Brendon has to grab him by the ankles and drag him out of the locker room into the pool area.   
“Stop! HELP!” Gerard shrieks as he’s dragged.   
“Get his arms!” Brendon orders. We all do as we’re told, and we lift up Gerard and chuck him into the pool.  
Gerard stays under for a while before surfacing, gasping and choking. He pants, and Brendon grips him by the hair and crouches to his level, holding the freak’s own knife up against his neck.  
“We’re going to have us a little contest, alright?” Brendon begins. “You stay under water for… three minutes. If you can do it, I’ll just give you a little nick. On your cheek. If you can’t; I’m going to poke out one of your eyes. Got it? An eye for an ear.”  
I try to look angry, but I really do hope that Brendon’s not serious. He’s not supposed to actually hurt Gerard, just help us give him a good scare. That’s what he promised, but the level of intensity he’s showing is making me wonder if he’s keeping that promise.  
Brendon looks up at the clock. “Three minutes? Better take a deep breath.” With that, he shoves Gerard’s head under water.   
I watch bubbles surface, and I pray that Gerard’s okay. I glance over at the clock, to see that it’s been a minute.  
“Okay Brendon,” I say.  
“Shut up,” Brendon growls.  
Another thirty seconds passes, and Bert nervously runs a hand through his dreads.  
“Come on,” I persist.  
“I said shut up!” Brendon barks.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
My lungs feel as though they’re a second from bursting. My chest actually aches; although logically I can’t have been under for more than two minutes, it feels as though it’s been two hours.   
I hear something zoom through the waters. Above the surface, I can hear screaming; and a lot of it. Blood pools above me, and suddenly, Brendon’s fucking head is floating above me. I kick away from it, and watch more bodies flop into the pool. I surface, and I hear Pete scream as who I can only assume to be Frank rips him to shreds. I cough loudly, my face on the side of the pool. The screaming stops, and Frank’s blood covered foot appears in front of my head. He lifts up my face with a hand so he can smile at me.   
He crashed through the fucking sun roof. To save me. As we leave, I get a glimpse of all the dark blood, swelling up in the water and covering the diving board. Pete, Brendon, Bob, and Bert, none of them are to be found.  
Approx. Four Hour Time Lapse  
I sit on the train, and the conductor comes over and asks,   
“May I see your ticket, please?”  
I dig it out of my duffel bag and hand it to him, wathing as he punches it. He hands it back, and asks,   
“Is that trunk yours?” gesturing at the large trunk in front of me.   
I nod, and once the man leaves, I hear Frank knocking from inside the trunk. I smile and knock back in Morse Code. I gaze out the window as we communicate, singing under my breath,  
“Point me to the sky above. I can’t get there on my own. Point me to the graveyard. Dig up her bones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the final chapter. Thank you so much for reading! Please comment! If you're sad it's over, try some of my other fics :)
> 
> And I totally recommend watching Let Me In. It's an amazing movie 

**Author's Note:**

> Woah long chapter. Thanks for reading!! Please comment!!! If you like this story, try reading some of my other fics.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr- www.these-wounds-will-scar-me.tumblr.com


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